The Crossover
by BlankX2
Summary: Two tattered, pine-green suitcases lead to the unintentional meeting of one cynical brunette and an optimistic and lively blonde after a mistaken case of switched luggage. An expectantly, long journey to return the suitcases to their rightful owners may result in more for the two people than just getting their clothes back. (AU, Everlark)
1. The Landing

**Thank you** **for choosing to read this story! It is my first story in a _long_ time so I'm hoping everyone enjoys! I haven't got a Beta so I'm sorry for any mistakes throughout the story. I am from Australia so any differences in seasons or schooling is more than likely due to this fact. Reviews are extremely appreciated!**

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The plane ride had been begrudgingly long and tedious. Seconds had ticked over to minutes which had ticked over to hours and it wasn't long until my legs had begun to cramp up. The small monitor that was tacked onto the back of the chair before me had lacked anything of interest; it was all animated movies and action films. A majority of the plane trip was spent encompassed by ominous, charcoal clouds that foreshadowed the impending rainfall and the rare gaps that broke through the murky sky only gave way to a view of the endless sea moving below us.

When I had first boarded the plane and found my deteriorated seat I had been excited to see the empty adjacent chairs. I had quickly placed my carry-on in the overhead locker before plunking myself down and waiting anxiously to see if they were yet to be filled. To my glee, they weren't and so I took full advantage of the empty space; pulling my bag from the locker after lift-off, placing it down beside me and pulling myself over to the window seat. I had watched the drab clouds float by and listened to my playlist on shuffle while my legs ached in the cramped space.

By the time the included on-flight meals had been distributed by the stewardess' my eyes had taken to people watching. Across from me in the row on the other side of the small, passenger plane sat a plump man with greying hair and deeply engraved wrinkles who had been tapping vigorously at a shiny, new iPad for a majority of the trip; the stewardess who had handed out the lousy tin trays that held the dull plane food had been tall and skinny, she had brunette hair that wall pulled back in a neat, mandatory bun on the nape of her neck and had smiled brightly when she asked me how the trip had been; over the seats in front of me I could see the top of two blonde heads, one a male with a mop of tangled curls, the other a women with straight, flat strands, who had been chattering endlessly throughout the trip, to my dismay.

When, finally, the rough voice of the captain had sounded through the crackling speakers announcing that the plane would be landing soon I had sighed in relief. A small, relaxed smile parted across my face at the thought of finally being home. With the months-worth of long service leave I had accumulated over my years of teaching at a reasonably large high-school in The District I had escaped to Panem to visit Gale. The trip had been dearly needed as the endless days spent teaching countless sports to a rowdy bunch of teenagers had taken its toll on both my mental and social life, but the city wasn't really a place for me. It was like pushing the incorrect puzzle piece into the place you wished it to fit, it was doable but it wasn't necessarily comfortable. So I was somewhat glad when the time came for me to fly back home and resume my regular routine.

As soon as the plane had come to a halt, the seatbelt sign had been switched off and the plane doors were slid open ready for the influx of people getting off, I was on my feet. I was ready to be rid of the cramped space and stuffy air of the plane and to be back on home turf. With my hand tightly grasping at the tattered handle of my carry-on I had begun to dash to the front of the plane where the stewardess' were ushering people off but the startling touch of someone's heavy hand on my shoulder brought me to a pause.

"Excuse me, hey" the voice belonging to the hand resting upon my shoulder called. I looked longingly towards the plane door just ahead of me as a queue began to develop then swivelled around with both exasperation and apprehension written across my face to the man behind me. "Hey, sorry, you just dropped this." The man's outstretched hand held the phone that had been tucked securely into my back pocket only moments ago. I looked from the phone back to him, his smile was large and encouraging and I recognised his mop of blonde curls as belonging to the man sitting in front of me for the duration of the plane trip. His eyes were happy and blue, so very, very blue. They were the colour of sapphires, cobalt, the ocean, the baby blue sky all mixed into one. They had these golden flecks the colour of butterscotch and honey running through them. They looked so caring and sweet. And, oh God, they were very, very blue.

I was pulled from the blue lagoons swirling within his eyes when an awkward, throaty chuckle crept out his throat as the time I spent silent drew on too long for a normal exchange between strangers.

"Thankyou" I mumbled tensely while quickly snatching at the phone resting in his hands and turning back towards the opening of the plane door. I continued on my path towards the escape, only this time at a slow shuffle as the crowd of people before me gradually made their way out like ants crawling from a crack.

By the time I emerged from the plane and entered the large, box-shaped building labelled terminal two the rain's weight had won its fight against the clouds strength and had begun to trickle down. It was slow at first; only lightly pattering onto the concrete runway on the other side of the large windows but it quickly gained speed and began to fall in sheets, splattering down, hard, onto the windows and soaking every inch of the tarmac.

"Thank God we weren't flying through that mess" I utter to myself, peering through the rain-drop covered windows.

I was quick to weave my way through the maze of hallways and terminals to the baggage collection so I wasn't surprised when only one or two other people had arrived and were waiting for their suitcase to be spewed out onto the conveyer belt. I surveyed the few bags currently winding their way past with my fingers crossed secretly in my jumper pocket, hoping that one of them was mine. To my letdown, none of them were and so I was left to fiddle with the sleeve of my jumper impatiently as a steady stream of suitcases passed by.

Finally after a few minutes I saw the battered pine green material of my bag slip through the hold of the airport walls and onto the conveyer belt awaiting me to grab it. A sigh of relief slipped past my lips unintentionally as my legs led me towards the bag which I blindly grabbed. It wasn't long after that that I made my way to the front of the airport to await for Prim to come pick me up.

I stepped outside and the sharp June wind speared through my jumper sheathed arms like mini knives and caused a wave of goose bumps to transpire across my skin. The rain continued to batter down just beyond the shielding of the metal canopy above me, pooling on the bitumen road. It was only a few moments until the familiar, second-hand, silver Hyundai rolled around the corner with an even more familiar blonde sitting in the front seat. My smile grew exceptionally wider at the sight of her and I reached my hand out in a beckoning wave. She parked the car right in front of me and before I could even make an attempt at moving, she was bounding out of her seat behind the wheel and wrapping me in an unyielding hug.

"Katniss! I missed you so much" Prim breathed, her voice strained with emotion. I laughed lightly into the woollen material of Prims favourite scarf, shaking my head ever so slightly.

"I was only gone a month, little duck" I replied softly, though I hugged her tighter against me, revelling in the comfort her presence brought me. When mum was only half-here (the other half of her off in some hypnotic, drug-induced world that she seemed more comfortable in than the world that held her two daughters) Prim became the only person I had. We became reliant upon each other, my half was more emotional than anything; where she required a mother-figure to take her to school and cook her dinner, I required the continuity she brought me. Prim was meaning and purpose for me; a reason to stay sane, to fight for her. Even only being gone for a month had left a deep crevasse inside me where Prim belonged.

We stood there for a while, clinging to each other for the support and comfort the other has always provided but when the wind picked up and began angling the rain so that it sprayed under the protection the canopy provided we decided that it was best to get going.

The trip home was pleasant as I rehashed vague details of my trip. Prim has yet to travel out of The District, just another thing our underprivileged background hasn't allowed, so she was eager to hear of what Panem was like. I told her about the tall buildings that stretched high into the sky, the masses of people who were constantly flooding the pathways, the millions of twinkling lights that stretched far into the darkness at night like small diamonds scattered over the horizon.

It wasn't long until I was redirecting the conversation towards Prim. The spotlight has never been a comfortable place for me, even if I'm only around my baby sister I still feel jittery and overly-conscious. She easily takes over the talking when I ask her about school, erupting with stories about her university professors, the cute boy that had sat beside her in one of her courses and a new rom com she had seen with her friends at the cinemas. She radiated an angelic glow when she spoke, her diamond blue spherical eyes gleamed with jubilance and a whimsical resonance ran through every word she let past her lips. I sank into the worn-out seat with a content sigh as we drew closer and closer to the small apartment which we called home.

The house hadn't altered much from the way I had left it over a month ago, but there wasn't much to change, really. I headed to my bedroom and dropped my bag to the floor with an unexpected heavy thud then turned and headed straight back to the living room where Prim had situated herself. Her brilliant, wide eyes flickered up to meet mine and a happy smile spread across her face as she turns them back down towards her phone.

"You don't mind if Rory comes 'round do you?" she questions me casually as she types out a quick text. I was a little surprised by her question; I had expected her to be slightly more interested in spending some time with me seeing as I only just got back, but my little duck wasn't so much of a little duck anymore and I knew I had to realise it sometime soon. Being the 20-year-old that she is, it was only normal for her to prefer the company of her boyfriend over her sardonic and cynical older sister who preferred silence over conversation and was unsuccessful at befriending anyone, even the moth that used to live in her bedroom.

"Mm hmm, sure thing, little duck" I murmured as I pretended to be preoccupied in the pantry that was as bare and barren as a desert. I shut the pantry door, my hands as vacant as they were when I opened it and headed back into the living room; I slump down beside her as she giggled quietly to her phone. Clearly Rory is a lot funnier than I remembered him to be.

"Rory is really excited to catch up with you" she insists, her eyes still glued to the screen, "he hasn't been able to afford to go visit Gale for a while so he's excited to hear some stories from your trip." I nod vaguely, knowing full well that my stories aren't what Rory is actually coming for. The second eldest Hawthorne is a good kid. He stepped up to the plate to help Gale when their dad passed; he's mature and reliant, always lending a hand and never expecting anything in return; not even acknowledgement for his good deeds. That doesn't change the fact that I believe no one is good enough for my little duck. Even if God himself came to my sister pleading for her hand in marriage, I doubt he would be up to the standards I have set for my baby sister.

"I'm going to go shower then, I feel disgusting after that flight" I told my sister as I rose from my spot and dawdled down the empty hallway towards the bathroom. I unsheathed myself from my clothing, turned on the faucet and stepped under the onslaught of hot water. The hazy steam swirled in lethargic patterns as it rose steadily towards the ceiling. I watched as one droplet travelled down the shower screen, gaining in size and velocity during the vertical drop.

My mind wandered off like usual, first down the path of the class plans I had to organise by Monday, then to what I would make for dinner that night, which then made me think of the other housework I had to get done like unpacking my suitcase and doing the laundry. A groaning sigh slipped from my lips. The list of things to get done was already beginning to grow feverishly like a wild vine but I assured myself that it was okay. It was routine, it kept me busy, and it was what I needed.

I slipped from the shower and made my way to my bedroom, wrapped tightly in the thread-bare, slightly off-white towel. The room was practically empty, only a lousy chest of draws, a singular bedside table, my bed and the green suitcase sitting on the ground before it, looking even more tattered than I remember it to be. Knowing that the laminated set of draws was bare of clothes as I had packed practically every piece of clothing I owned for the trip (which still wasn't much), I decided to head straight for the suitcase in search for something to wear.

Clutching my towel tightly to myself, I began to unzip the bag. It was only then that I realised the thin, olive-green ribbon that had been tied onto the zip for so many years was gone. Must have fallen off when the airport workers were handling it I thought to myself. But once the bag was completely open, its insides exposed to the world I realised that that was not the case.

"What the fuck" I whispered under my breath at the sight of men's shoes and men's shirts and every other piece of clothing a _man_ would require. It was all packed perfectly, neatly folded and organised; that is what told me it was definitely not my bag. I picked up one of the shirts that sat on the surface and unfolded it.

"What the _fuck_ " I all-but shouted at the piece of clothing. The outcry was enough for Prim to come looking into my room, her facial features veiled in curiosity. Her eyebrow arched when she saw the men's t-shirt that was clutched in my hands.

"Did you manage to have more fun over in Panem then you have told me about?" Prim asks suggestively with a humorous quality to her voice. I turn to her wide-eyed as I splutter out incoherent words. "Chill, Katniss! I was joking" she chuckles lightly, "looks like you switched up your bag."

My eyes flit back to the bag filled with the men's clothing and I nod blankly. And now it makes sense why the bag landed with an overly-heavy thud, why it looked even more tattered than I remembered and why my green ribbon wasn't adorning the handle. This simply isn't my bag. I reach for the luggage tag that hung lifelessly from one of the side handles, the writing was faded and smeared and it was a bit of a struggle to work out what it read but I managed. _Peeta Mellark_ it had written across the tag with a mobile number scrawled beside it.

"Well shit" I mumbled.


	2. An Unwanted Trip

**Hey guys! Big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favourite-ed the story! Sorry it took a while to finish the second chapter, it's mainly just a plot filler and I struggled quite a bit to get it down on paper so it may not be my finest work but the good stuff starts in the next chapter! So hopefully you stick around for it! I hope you enjoy! (Please take into account that I am Australian while reading! Any strange terms/alternative spellings is more than likely because of this)**

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 **Chapter 2: An Unwanted Trip**

When I first looked at the tag hanging from the bag, a flurry of thoughts whirled through my head. Firstly, who has a name like _Peeta_? Though, really, Katniss isn't a common name either. Secondly, who does this _Peeta guy_ think he is stealing my bag? When I think about it, it was more than likely that _I_ had stolen _his_ bag but I prefer to view Peeta as the bad guy. Thirdly, where the _fuck_ is my own bag?

I had rummaged around through the few pieces of clothing I _had_ left in the draws and found a pair of old sweats that I didn't know I owned. I had to go to Prim for a shirt, but to my chagrin hers all seemed to be a size fit for a two-year-old. She ended up handing over one of Rory's shirts, it was either that or I sat around topless. It was bizarre to sit around in your sister's boyfriend's shirt but I guess it was the better of the two options seeing as Rory was due to show up any second now.

I sat on the couch with the tag flipping back and forth between my fingers lazily. My phone positioned beside me, beckoning me to call the number scribbled on that tag. It was obviously the first course of action in getting my suitcase back but I had no interest in calling up a stranger who more than likely had hold of all my belongings. What if my bag was simply sitting at the airport still? Awaiting me to collect it? I should contact the airport first, my mind thought decisively.

So that's exactly what I did, I took a hold of my phone, searched for the airports number on the internet and then called them. A forced sweet and cheery voice broke through the speaker when the dial finally stopped ringing and I internal groaned. I explained my situation to the girl quickly, told her which flight I was on and described my bag, told her how I had ended up with someone else's luggage.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we don't seem to have any green suitcases here. My assumption would be that whoever owns the bag you have at the moment now has a hold of yours. In this case, your best course of action would be to get in contact with that person and organise a way to return the luggage" she chirped through the phone. I nodded blankly before finally murmuring a thank you and hanging up.

The rattling sound of Rory knocking at the door resounded throughout the apartment. Prim came around the corner of the kitchen with the skip of a young school girl and the smile of a Cheshire cat. She tore open the door to reveal the man-mountain that was Rory Hawthorne. A lethargic grin formed across his face and Prim gleamed earnestly. Rory's eyes drifted over to me and he gave me a friendly nod.

"Hey, Katniss" he said, his tone becoming unsure as he took in my shirt. "isn't that… isn't that my shirt?" he questioned, his eyes landing back on Prim with a baffled look.

Prim's efforts to stifle her laugh were futile and a giggle erupted through her. I rolled my eyes and glared off into the distance. Through small fits of giggles, Prim explained the scenario of how I ended up sitting around in Rory's shirt. I scrunched myself up into a ball on the couch, annoyed by the amusement they are finding in this situation.

"So are you going to call the guy? Don't you want your stuff back?" Rory asked as he sat down, Prim quick to clamber into his lap. It was definitely not what I wanted to do but it was clearly the only option I had left. I did need my belongings back, especially with work starting again on Monday; I doubt they would accept me showing up in these dilapidated sweats. I sighed exasperatedly.

"no, I'm texting him" I decided. Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my phone, punched in the phone number and tapped out a quick message explaining who I was and how I got a hold of his number. As soon as the message was sent I dropped my phone onto the couch beside me as though it was on fire and stared at the T.V.

Time was crawling towards ten o'clock when a text finally popped up on my phone, interrupting the conversation we were having about the recent game between the Eagles and St Kilda.

 _Hey Katniss, I just opened the bag, from what I can see it's definitely not mine hahaha. Are you in The Districts?_

A flurry of texts pursued, hesitantly I informed him that I was currently in District Twelve and that I would be for the foreseen future. I was taken back when his reply popped up on my phone. Turns out Peeta was only at The District Airport as a crossover stop. He flew out only an hour after landing and took my bag with him all the way to The Capitol where it now resides in his house. I stared blankly at the screen, lit brightly with the message gawking back at me.

"He lives in The Capitol; my bag is all the way in The Capitol" I stated flatly, my eyes raising to meet those of Prim and Rory "What am I meant to do now?"

"I guess you'll have to go on another holiday" Rory shrugs nonchalantly. For Rory, a 20-year-old contract builder, the answer was straight forward, simply fly to the capitol, trade bags and return home. But with my savings on the minimum and the month long holiday I just enjoyed, I doubt I would be able to take the extra time off work to get to the Captiol and back. Another text led my phone to vibrate.

 _I guess we are in a bit of a pickle then_ it read and I found a strange annoyance bubbling inside me. He finds this amusing. Not only is this detrimental to my savings but also my job. I doubt the Head of Phys. Ed will be happy to hear that I will be taking an even longer holiday than previously organised. The anger replays into my reply unintentionally

 _I shouldn't expect you to be willing to fly out to me, should I?_ Once the message is sent I regret the harsh tone that lines its words. It was more than likely that he was only trying to make light of a shitty situation but my tendency to do things before thinking had gotten the better of me. With the frustration I felt now directed back at me, I decided it was best to just switch my phone off and deal with the situation tomorrow. That way, maybe, my hot-headed actions won't be so evident.

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A thin sliver of golden light cut through my room as the sun began to break into the sky. A relaxing silence filled the house. Early morning had always been my favourite time of day; the stillness of the yet-to-be interrupted air always calmed me. I reached over and pulled the duvet from my body and rose from my bed. My body mindlessly guided me towards the kitchen where I quickly made a coffee and then made myself comfy on the couch, my laptop balanced precariously on my lap.

I stared at the screen, some-what bewildered by the airflights website displayed across the screen. I hadn't realised that I had even searched for flights let alone ended up on a website only a few clicks away from booking one. I hadn't checked my phone after sending the text to Peeta and so really, I had no clue whether I should even be booking flights to the Capitol. But I knew that if I weren't to do it now, I wouldn't book these flights ever and the process of getting my luggage back will more than likely be extended.

With a deep sigh, I made the few remaining clicks required to book a flight to The Capitol. It was an awfully reckless thing to do based simply on an assumption, but thinking things through is foreign to me. And only now that the tickets are booked do I realise that I am yet to tell work that I need more time off, to tell Peeta that I have decided to fly over to the Capitol, to tell even Prim that I have made the choice to do so. As I process what I have done, I come to the final conclusion that I have caused more problems than I have solved.

After an agonisingly long call explaining my situation to work and a tiresome conversation with Prim about my choice to fly to the Capitol in less than 24 hours, I come to the realisation that telling Peeta is the last thing on my to-do list.

"Hey, Peeta, it's Katniss, you know the girl whose luggage you currently have" I blurt into the phone stupidly. There was a quiet, distant chuckle through the speaker before the strangely familiar sound of Peeta's voice flows through the speaker.

"Hey, Katniss, how are you?" His voice is deep and gruff but rings with amusement.

"I'm good… I'm good" I repeat dumbly, shaking my head at my own conversational skills, "umm, I was just calling to say that I booked a flight to The Capitol for early tomorrow morning… is that okay?" I question awkwardly.

"ahh, yeah, sure, I guess" he chuckles, "I – ahh – I didn't expect you to fly here, you know that, right?" I pause for a moment, unsure of how to answer. I couldn't see any other way for this situation to work out other than one of us fly to the other. Mailing the luggage would have been a tiresome, drawn-out experience that I was sure I did not want to go through.

"It was the easiest thing to do"

"Well, sure! Umm, to make it easier for you, you could stay at my house if you want?"

"Oh" I state dumbly, taken-back by his offer, "I have booked a flight home for tomorrow night. I won't be staying in The Captiol, I'm just flying over to get my stuff." His end of the line was now silent and I shifted my weight awkwardly waiting for his response. This is probably the stiffest conversation I have ever been a part of. It consisted solely of bulky silences and blunt responses. The conversation was as hesitant as a school kid making a speech.

"Okay, sure, that's fine. I can text you through my address, do you know your way around The Capitol? I can pick you up if you need" he offers, a re-established cheeriness in his voice.

"No, that's fine, I'll catch a taxi. I will see you tomorrow then" I inform him, hoping for this conversation to end so I can return to my everyday life and forget all about this situation until I'm forced to sit on that plane.

"umm… yeah, sure. Bye, Katniss" he replies just before I hang up the phone. Thank God that is over.

Later that night, Peeta's suitcase along with my smaller carry-on filled with a few pieces of clothing I managed to find around the house and my other necessities, rested beside the apartment door, ready for me to grab for my red-eye flight.

I sat at the shitty, laminated desk in the living room, furiously trying to set up relief work for my classes for while I'm away while also browsing the internet for day-time activities to do in The Capitol. It made sense to make use of the day I was spending there seeing as I had nothing else to do. Peeta had sent his address through to me earlier, which I had quickly searched for on maps. The street he lived on seemed pretty nice; all the houses had large front yards with carefully pruned bushes and lush green grass. This guy was clearly reasonably cashed up.

It wasn't long until it finally reached one in the morning. Prim and I had gotten in the car to silently drive all the way out to the airport. Our goodbyes were short and filled with muffled yawns; we were both yet to sleep that night. I gave her one tight hug, her touch calming my unusual jitteriness.

"I'll be back in a day, little duck" I yawned into her ear before pulling away and giving her a sleepy smile. Her lips curled up drowsily as she nodded back. I grabbed the two bags from the back and made my way to check in.

The public's common dislike of early morning flights meant that the airport was mostly empty, there were only a few stranglers wandering to their terminals. I was grateful for the short lines at check-in and the quick process at customs that meant getting to my own terminal was relatively easy. A sense of unnatural familiarity washed over me as I sat and waited for the terminal to be opened. Even through the murky darkness of night that consumed the outside I could make out the thunderous rain clouds that stared down at the Earth, angered. I knew it wouldn't be long until they broke and rain began to shower down, I hoped that they would hold off just long enough for the plane to get out of their reach.

Somehow the clouds managed to contain their rain the few minutes the plane required to break from their grasp. The plane was mostly empty with only a few business men scattered throughout. I spent the trip forcing myself to attempt sleeping. I also spent the trip failing to sleep and by the time the plane landed my eyes had become as heavy as lead and I was struggling to stifle the yawns threatening to escape my lips.

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The sun was painting an array of soft oranges across the sky as it made its daily ascent. The morning was brisk, the winter chill having become unbearable over the last week. I made my way to the taxi bank and quickly hopped in one. An unwanted nervousness wracked my body as the car headed towards Peeta's house. This situation is easy, simply exchange the bags and leave. I can spend the day wandering the Capitol or find a quiet library and spend the day reading. I shouldn't be stressing over the situation, forming unlikely scenarios in my head or trying to construct a face that fits the name _Peeta_. I slumped deep into the worn material of the taxi seat and hoped that this whole ordeal would be over soon.

The street was exactly like that displayed on my phone screen, its white picket fences and all. I wouldn't be surprised if someone were to tell me that this street had starred in a picture perfect tv show. The walk to the front door of the house labelled 48 was daunting, forcing myself to knock was even more so. But definitely the most daunting thing was the blonde lady who decided to answer the door.

Her hair was pulled back in a bouncy, curled ponytail that hung down her back, a refined layer of makeup covered her face and she wore an expensive looking, white shift dress that was ironed so not a single crease marked it and a pair of ridiculously high heels. She was the cookie cutter recreation of every successful blonde woman I have ever known. She was the definition of perfection and just her gaze could have the power to intimidate even the strongest people.

"Hi, sorry, I must have the wrong house, I was looking for Peeta Mellark" I apologise, my shoulders drawn back and my chin held high. This lady may have a strange power of intimidation over me but she will not bring me to my knees. I'm too stubborn to be effected by her riotousness.

"Oh, no, this is Peeta's house, I'll just grab him" she replies sweetly before swiftly spinning around and calling into the house.

 _Let this be over with_ I think to myself.


End file.
